


You Are Enough

by Autobratty



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Dratchet is only implied, M/M, The Driftrod can be read as romantic or platonic, hurt/comfort(?)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-01-29 06:03:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21405376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Autobratty/pseuds/Autobratty
Summary: This year's fic for my amica endura
Relationships: Drift | Deadlock/Ratchet, Drift | Deadlock/Rodimus
Comments: 10
Kudos: 35





	You Are Enough

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yeahdragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeahdragon/gifts).

“DRIFT!”

Drift had barely departed the shuttle when Rodimus came sprinting forward, launching himself into the air and into his friend’s arms. Not having expected the prime’s enthusiasm, Drift was nearly bowled over by the force of the hug.

A few years compared to the millions they’d lived should have felt like nothing, but to Rodimus, it had felt like an eternity. His optics immediately began to well up with tears, and he squeezed them shut just as tightly as he squeezed Drift.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come for you,” Rodimus blurted out.

Drift let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. Even though he was the one to propose his own exile, the fact that it was Ratchet that came for him, not Rodimus, it had hurt, and left him with some doubts as to if he was even welcome back. Ratchet had assured him that he was, but Drift had never voiced his concern about Rodimus in particular.

He wasn’t ready to forgive Rodimus for not coming for him, not quite yet, so he simply replied, “I know.” His voice was muffled by Rodimus’ shoulder as he buried his face against his neck. The swordsmech relished in the warmth of his best friend’s plating. “Missed you.”

Rodimus bit back a sob. “I missed you, too,” he choked out, clutching the smooth planes of new armor as if Drift would disappear if he so much as loosened his hold. He didn’t want to have to let go ever again.

But he did, and things just got more complicated from there, as things tend to do. Things would never be like they were, and they would just have to accept that, as much as it ached. They’d always have each other, and that was enough.

—

“Drift?”

Rodimus stepped off the small pod, looking like he’d been run over by a tank. His paint was dull and scuffed, the metal under his eyes was warped, his optics were dim, and his aura was limp and grey. Drift wondered if he was looking at a ghost. Then again, he mused, what would it matter? He was surrounded by them already.

“Not quite the Rodpod, is it?” he said by way of greeting, nodding towards the red-and-white circular pod his long-time friend had just stepped out of.

“I’m _so_ sorry I’m late. _The Exitus_ was at the wrong end of the Acklaw system. I came as soon as I heard.” Rodimus wasted no time in approaching Drift, their time apart having done nothing to weather his desire to be close to him. 

Drift was resplendent in his plush black cape and intricate filigree markings, bold and stark against glossy white plating, framed by rich reds. Even shrouded with grief, Drift was regal, and Rodimus felt like something cold and worn and withered by comparison.

It had been centuries since they’d last seen each other, but Drift still knew Rodimus inside and out by spark, and he could tell that something was wrong - something beyond empathy and the grief of losing a friend. His aura, usually bright and warm as a sunny day, was hollow, cold, withdrawn.

“Your eyes… your _aura_.” Drift took a step closer and pointed at Rodimus accusingly but kept his voice low and gentle. “Have you been drinking?”

Rodimus turned away, pointedly ignoring the question in favor of walking towards Ratchet’s grave. “Hey,” he whispered. “Little gift for you”. He crouched down and pulled something small and old and less gold than it once was, and placed it on the tombstone, alongside countless vials of innermost energon. “I promised I’d look after it, but I think it’s best left here.”

“Rodimus…”

As he left his offering for the deceased, Rodimus looked over his shoulder to see that Drift had followed him, and was only a few paces away. “…About just now…”

“I’m not drunk,” the former captain insisted as he stood. “I had something before I landed - something to steady the nerves - but I’m not drunk.”

“Good,” Drift responded, almost a little too firmly. In a softer tone, he said, “Because I know you miss life up there.” He knew he didn’t have to specify what he meant.

“I’m up there now!” Rodimus replied, overly cheerful, and pointed a finger at the sky, looking heavenward. “Well, not RIGHT now, but I still travel! I’m still traveling!” He let out an almost manic laugh, framed by a forced smile and quivering spoiler. “There’s always some new errand to run - some new, _exciting_ errand.”

“It’s not the same though, is it?”

Faced with those few soft-spoken words, Rodimus dropped the facade, turning empty optics to Drift. It was only for a moment - he couldn’t bear to meet his gaze for more than a few seconds. He didn’t have to verbally agree for Drift to know that he was right.

When Rodimus turned to get back into the pod, Drift stopped him. “Rodimus - before you go…”

The once-Prime looked back at his friend, aquamarine optics tilted up at him imploringly. “…Do you think it worked?”

Rodimus didn’t think he could look sadder, but his face still managed to fall further, while Drift looked almost hopeful. “I know it was _years_ ago, and I know Nautica said it was a long shot, but… I’ve been thinking about it a LOT now that Ratty’s gone.”

Rodimus pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes shut tightly. “We agreed to never talk about it.”

“Please. For me.”

Drift had never asked for anything. In the face of his one plea, Rodimus was helpless but to comply. “I dunno, Drift,” he said more exasperatedly than he’d meant to. “I dunno if it worked or not. I don’t think we’ll _ever_ know.” He opened his eyes and turned his gaze back towards his friend, looking more exhausted than ever. “And… I think that’s _good._ Because it means we can keep telling ourselves it _did_.”

Lowering his optics, Drift nodded minutely. Rodimus reached out and gently took one of his hands in his own, looking at it in favor of looking at Drift’s sad eyes. “It was good to see you again,” he said softly, sincerely. “Keep in touch?”

“If I can _find you,_ definitely.”

“Promise?”

Drift looked back up, lacing his fingers with Rodimus’. “Promise.”

Before leaving, Rodimus hopped back down out of the pod to pull Drift into his arms, holding him tight. For the first time in a very, very long time, Drift felt the unusual warmth of his best friend’s frame. He closed his eyes and, for a single moment, could almost pretend things were just as they’d been before, when he and Rodimus could hang out and goof off whenever they wanted, and Ratchet was alive, and everyone was happy and healthy and _together_.

He knew there was no going back, and that he and Rodimus likely wouldn’t see each other again for a while, maybe years, and wouldn’t talk as frequently as they did when they spent every day together, but in time, things would be okay. No matter what happened, no matter how far apart they were, both of them knew that they’d always have each other, and that was enough.


End file.
